


Just a Small Duel

by rinthegreat



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Reincarnation, i started typing and this is what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinthegreat/pseuds/rinthegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think we knew each other in a past life,” the other continues oblivious to Haru’s thoughts.  “Tell me I’m not crazy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Small Duel

**Author's Note:**

> For RinHaru Week 2015 Day 1: Firsts (Reincarnation)

            Sometimes Haru has these dreams.  Rin’s always the star of them, but that’s not unusual.  What’s stranger is how he wakes up every time from these dreams, clutching his chest like he ran five miles.  Sometimes he reaches up to touch his cheek and feels the dried tears there.

            The first time is a fluke.  Rin’s on his mind a lot these days, so it’s really no surprise.  Graduation is looming just around the corner, and the threat of Australia weighs heavily on Haru’s mind.

            He knows it’s more than a threat; he knows that Rin’s really leaving again.  He thinks maybe that’s why he keeps having these dreams.

            Haru’s eyes trail over to the window.  The moon is still high in the sky.  It would be strange to text Rin now, to ask if he’s ok.  Deep down somewhere he knows he is, he has to be.  It was just a dream, Haru reminds himself, no matter how real it felt.

            But when he closes his eyes he can still see him, Rin lying there, blood as red as the long strands of hair pooling around him.  He’s in full feudal samurai wear, sword fallen at his side.  In the dream, Haru always looks down at his own hands, seeing the same shade of blood on them as what surrounds his fallen star.  He knows the katana poking a hole in the chest of the man he loves is his.  He knows he’s the one who caused it.

            Enough.  Haru shakes his head.  It’s still barely even four in the morning, but he needs to get up, get out, do something.  Anything.  He heaves himself off his bed, resisting the urge to look at his phone as he leaves.  He’s too tempted to call Rin, to hear his voice no matter how irritated the shark would be at being awoken.

            The bath will do for now.  It did well enough when he was here alone and Rin had disappeared to Australia the first time.  If anything could calm him down now, it’s the water.  Really, he needs to swim.  But Iwatobi is closed, Samezuka is too far (even though Rin’s there), and if Makoto knew Haru swam alone in the ocean in the middle of the night, he would probably have a heart attack.

            He plugs the tub and fills it with water, barely letting it fill before he gets in and dunks his hair under the stream from the faucet.  He needs to stop thinking about it.

            The thing is, though, that he doesn’t even know much about feudal Japan.  Sure, they learned about it in school, but it doesn’t mean he retained any of the information.  It’s like math equations and English; it just disappeared from his head.

            Even so, closing his eyes just for a second brings to mind the image of cherry blossom petals falling, sharp teeth bared in a smile, and a pale hand resting on a half drawn sword.  _“Come on, Haruka.  Just a small duel.”_

            He stays under the water as long as he can, waiting till his lungs strain from the lack of oxygen before finally resurfacing.  He extends his hand in the moonlight, staring at the unstained skin there.  No blood, he tells himself.  It’s not real.  It was never real.

            He sits like that till the water grows cold, goosebumps alight on his skin.  He stays still, until his hand is shaking from the effort of being held up in the light.  As if it knows it has to stay there until Haru can accept that it’s clean of Rin’s blood.  That Rin’s blood was never there to start with.  He lowers it finally and stays like that until the sun comes up and Makoto comes barging in his back door asking why he isn’t dressed for school yet.

            Rin comes to visit that weekend.  It’s a more common occurrence nowadays, especially with the season over.  He doesn’t text Haru ahead of time.  Well, he does, Haru just doesn’t check his phone.  So he’s surprised when he opens his door and Rin’s standing on the other side.

            Only for a moment though.  It’s not as unusual as it had been the day Haru had opened the door to two international plane tickets and an already packed bag.

            “Rin,” he states, as if the other didn’t know his own name.  He’s impressed that he’s able to maintain his composure, always limited when the other is around.

            Rin grins, wide ad sharp.  “Can I come in?”  He asks like Haru could turn him down.  Like Haru would.

            The dolphin just steps aside to let the other in, moving back into the kitchen where he was, unsurprisingly, preparing Mackerel for his lunch.  Rin chuckles.  “Mackerel again?  You should really widen your cooking repertoire.”

            They’ve had this conversation before, every time Rin comes to visit actually.  Regardless of if the others come with him.  “I like mackerel,” he informs Rin, same as always.

            The other chuckles again, but he slips off his shoes and comes inside.  “What else do you have going on?”

            Haru shrugs.  It’s a weekend.  Homework, hassling Makoto to help him find an indoor pool to swim in, and chores are all he ever does.  Rin knows this.  They talked about it last time he was here.  “You should do something more exciting with your life,” Rin exhales like a sigh, collapsing on the floor next to the kotatsu.  It’s starting to get warmer outside again.  Almost warm enough to replace the kotatsu.  Another reminder that his time with Rin is short.

            “My life is plenty exciting,” he grumbles, turning off the stove.  He places the mackerel on two plates and scoops out some rice for the two of them.  It wasn’t that he was expecting Rin, per say, but he had been hoping.

            He places the plate in front of Rin before the other can complain or lecture him anymore.  “Eat,” Haru instructs, and Rin doesn’t protest.

            “God, Haru, your cooking is amazing,” the other groans once he’s finished eating.  The sound sends heat to Haru’s face and down his stomach.  He hides it by taking an extra-large bite and glaring out the window.

            “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Haru spots Rin leaning across the table.  “No really.  Imagine what you could do if you expanded your horizons a little…”

            “There’s nothing wrong with mackerel, Rin.”

            “Meat, Haru,” Rin lectures for the thousandth time.  “You need to learn to cook some real meat.”

            _If I did that would you stay with me?_   Haru doesn’t say out loud.  Even just thinking it is enough to embarrass him.  “If you eat too much red meat, you’ll die,” he says instead, finishing off his fish.  “Are you done?”  He asks when the silent between them is too thick, no longer filled with the clacking of chopsticks.

            Rin nods, and when Haru goes to grab his plate, he notices the strange look the other is giving him.  He hurries into the kitchen, tossing the plates into the sink before Rin can decipher anything too deep, like Haru’s feelings.

            “Say,” the other says after a minute, voice quietly serious.  “Do you ever get the feeling that we knew each other before?”

            Haru’s heartbeat picks up.  His hands start to shake and he releases the dish in his hand before he can drop it from too tall a height.  “Rin,” he speaks in a voice barely above a whisper, rather than the chiding tone he meant to use, “we used to go to elementary school together.”

            “I don’t mean that.”  There’s a rustling coming from somewhere behind Haru, and his hand balls itself into a fist.  “I mean before.  In a past life or something.”

            He has to remove his hands from the sink before he shakes water and soap all over himself.  Instead he keeps them balled at his sides, not turning around to Rin, even as he hears the other approach him.  “That sounds like something you’d say,” he mutters finally when he realizes Rin’s waiting for him to respond.

            “Yeah, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

            Something about Rin’s tone of voice when he said that makes Haru turn around.  The redhead is pointedly not looking at him.  He’s just out of reach, but for a wild second Haru thinks he could grab him if only he tried.  “It’s just a small duel,” he whispers without thinking.

            Rin’s eyes widen and his head flips up with a snap, eyes on Haru.  “What did you say?”

            “I don’t know.”  He backtracks, running into the sink and the counter behind him in his retreat.

            But of course Rin doesn’t let him escape.  He never does.  “Haru,” Rin gasps, lunging forward and grabbing him around the shoulders.  His grip is painful, knuckles white, and his eyes look deranged.  Haru’s struck with the ridiculousness of their situation.  He quoted a dream that there’s no way the other could’ve been there for, and it made Rin go wild.  “Haruka,” Rin says again, quieter, and this time it’s Haru’s eyes turn to widen.

            It’s his full name, it’s not like he should be surprised to hear it.  But something about the way Rin says it this time, something about the way Rin’s looking at him right now, all of it has him flying back into the dream he can’t seem to forget to matter how hard he tries.

            _The wind is sifting through his hair, what’s left out of his ponytail anyway, when he hears footsteps approach.  Even in the dream, he already knows who it is.  “Rin,” he states calmly, not turning around._

_“You always can tell when it’s me.  How do you do that?”  The other asks, smile clear in his voice, even if Haru can’t see him at the moment._

Because no one else comes to visit me _, he thinks to himself.  “Because you’re not as good at being silent as you should be,” he says instead._

_“I’m a samurai, not a ninja,” the other states indignantly._

_Haru swallows back a chuckle and turns around finally, leveling his gaze at the other man.  “What do you want today, Rin?”_

_The redhead is standing there, dazzling as ever, even if Haru won’t admit it, grinning broad as the cherry blossom petals sway in the breeze behind him.  “You know what I’m here for.  I want to test my skills against yours.”_

_“No.”  He’s firm on that statement.  He’ll never fight with Rin, even just for training.  He’s killed too many, and he refuses to add the only ray of sunshine in his life to his body count._

_Rin’s smile never falters, though.  “Come on, Haruka.  Just a small duel.”_

He comes back to reality to find Rin’s arms wrapped around his frame, the other pressed against him.  Haru stands stock still, not knowing quite how to react.  It’s not strange; Rin is much more touch oriented than any of the rest of them, with the exception of Nagisa.  Even so, he doesn’t move to hug Rin back.  Instead he just accepts the warmth from the other, not daring to dream that there could be anything more than this.

            “I’ve been having strange dreams,” he starts, and Haru’s surprised to hear his own thoughts come out of Rin’s mouth.  “About you.”  The redhead lets him go and steps back, just out of reach again.  “But not like my normal ones.  These ones are more like…memories.”

            He doesn’t seem to realize the weight of what he said, but Haru can feel the back of his neck heating up at the knowledge that Rin dreams about him too.  Probably not the same way.  Rin’s dreams no doubt revolve around swimming with all of them, much the way the rest of his life does.

            “I think we knew each other in a past life,” the other continues oblivious to Haru’s thoughts.  “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

            His mouth dries at the expression Rin gives him when he finally meets Haru’s eyes again.  No matter how much he wants to, he can’t lie to Rin.  Just like he can’t refuse to let him inside his house every time the other knocks.  “You’re not crazy,” he concedes finally, the closest to admitting he’s been having the strange memory dreams he thinks he’ll ever get.

            The smile Rin gives him in response to his words is dazzling, despite the crookedness.  Maybe it’s because it’s not his confident grin he shows the world that it dazzles Haru.  Moments like this, between just the two of them, are more precious to him that Rin will ever know.  “That makes me feel a lot better,” Rin confesses, leaning back against the wall behind him.  “I’ve thought I was going crazy for a while.  I mean, I don’t even remember learning about samurai.”

            He doesn’t look concerned, and he’s not hitting Haru, which means the dreams Rin’s been waking up to are different than the one’s Haru’s been having.  Rin hasn’t accused Haru of killing him, and Haru wonders how many lives they might’ve had together before now that led to different endings.  He wonders how Rin’s end, but asking him about that would just open the question up to be returned.  And no matter how ready Haru is to admit that he’s been having memory-dreams of Rin, he’s not ready to admit that he’s positive he ended Rin’s life in that memory the other seems to be remembering so fondly.

            “Hey, I wonder how many other lives we had before.  I bet we weren’t always Japanese,” Rin declares thoughtfully, fingers on his chin.  They’re darker than the ones Haru sees in his dreams, but the gesture is so similar to how samurai-Rin judged him in one of his scenes that he reaches out and wraps his arms around Rin.  “Haru?”

            Haru just shakes his head, not ready for the other to see his face yet.  “It doesn’t matter.  They don’t.  This is the only life that means anything.”

            He can feel the heat building on Rin’s chest even through his shirt.  “Haru?!”  The other all but exclaims, voice shrill and shaking.  He calms down after a minute of Haru refusing to release him, arms falling to Haru’s waist.  It’s intimate like this, and he wonders for a moment if this is the step forward he’s been dreaming about when he’s not dreaming about killing Rin.  “You’re secretly more romantic than I am, aren’t you?”  Rin asks him, voice falsely calm as he drops his head to Haru’s lowered one.

            There are lips on his crown, the ghost of a kiss.  They’re alien and eerily familiar all at the same time.  How many lifetimes have they stood like this?  How long has it taken them to get to this point in each one?  He doesn’t want to know.  “Stay for dinner,” he instructs instead, despite them having just finished lunch.  Stay forever, he wants to ask, but he knows that’s something Rin won’t do.

            There’s a breath of air on the top of his head, half a laugh.  “I feel like I just bared my soul to you, and you’re asking me to stay for dinner,” Rin explains.  He can’t communicate his thoughts in the same wordless way Makoto and Haru have mastered.  “You’re always so cool, Haru.”

            That’s you, Haru keeps to himself.  It’s not true.  Rin whines and cries too easily and cares too much.  But he’s Rin, and there’s nothing Haru would do to change him.  Not in this lifetime, not in the next.  He won’t even stop Rin from leaving for Australia.  “Yeah,” he says finally.  “But one of us has to be.”


End file.
